


Come and take me to yourself (there I will hide)

by psychomachia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, Assassination Attempt(s), Downplaying Trauma, Forcing Exhausted Character to Get Some Sleep, Loneliness, M/M, Neglectful Parents, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Royalty, affection-starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24196438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia
Summary: Aurelio's new husband already wants him gone and they haven't even taken off their clothes yet.
Relationships: Sickly King/His New Husband from an Arranged Marriage
Comments: 7
Kudos: 92
Collections: Hurt Comfort Exchange 2020





	Come and take me to yourself (there I will hide)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SouthernContinentSkies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernContinentSkies/gifts).



“You may leave.”

His husband's first words are softly said, but there is no mistaking the tone of command behind them. Matthias may be only attired in a thick sleeping robe, his feet cushioned in a pair of slippers, but his regality is no less impressive than a few hours ago, when he bore a crown far too heavy for the pale head beneath it.

“I don't believe I'm allowed to, Your Majesty,” Aurelio says mildly. “One of the things made quite explicitly clear to me was that upon our wedding night, I was to perform certain duties.”

Matthias snorts. “I know that you have a brain.” His pen moves quickly across the paper, setting each sheet aside as he rapidly scans through them, signing with a controlled flourish. “Surely you did not think this was to be a traditional affair. I am no blushing bride, whose maidenhead you must pierce so that servants can hang our sheets and proclaim my sanctity to the world.”

Aurelio leans against the wall. “A blushing bride?” He laughs. “Perish the thought. Even if we are not to be devoted lovers, we can at least be civil acquaintances.”

“Of course,” Matthias coughs slightly. “And way to maintain our cordial relationship would be if you were to leave my bedroom. I assure you, no one in my court would blame you for it. They would only wonder why you had not done so as soon as the door closed.”

“I doubt that,” Aurelio says. “Surely someone would doubt my sincerity in my vows to love you, to protect you, to defend our alliance against all who would tear it asunder? I cannot have someone thinking that my country produces nothing but fickle liars with silver tongues.”

Matthias's pen snaps in his hands, ink spattering on the paper. “I am your new liege,” he says. “This is not a request.”

Aurelio nods, making no attempt to move towards his exit. Matthias may put up a good front, but he can see the trembling in his arms, the muffled coughs hidden behind pursed lips, the spasms in his back--

Matthias arches back, as a fit of coughing contorts his body. Aurelio is able to catch him before he lands on the stone floor, holds his body through the spasms he had been discreetly warned about.

It is an agonizingly long time, and Aurelio keeps his grasp on Matthias tight, does not let go even as his hands beat against him, even his red-rimmed eyes glare, even as--

He does not let go.

Eventually, Matthias stops convulsing and retching, sinking into a merciful unconsciousness that has Aurelio gently relaxing his hold, cradling so he can lay his husband's head on his lap. His breathing is shallow, but for now, he is at peace.

Matthias's skin is cold and white, marble spattered with blood from his lips. Aurelio pulls the sheet from the bed, wipes his face clean. He bends down, runs his finger along Matthias's cheek, along the fine cheekbones that proclaim just whose family he belongs to.

“Well,” he says softly. “I suppose they'll just have to be satisfied with this.”

* * *

“Impressive,” Aurelio says staring up at the painting. “I had heard stories of your father, but this certainly is a fine representation of--” He trails off, as he sees Matthias roll his eyes. “I suppose I'm babbling too much again?”

“No, please, do go on,” Matthias says dryly. “Father Justinian hasn't had the chance to corner me yet today so he can proclaim the glory of King Gregory and his noble reign. Surely, you must rectify that at once.”

“Father Justinian? Ah, was he that hedgehog-looking fellow that married us?” Aurelio scratches his head. “To be honest, all of your clergy just sort of blur together after a while, darling.”

“Darling?” Matthias hisses. “What happened to your Majesty?”

“Well, we did consummate our marriage,” Aurelio says. “We can be on more familiar terms, can we not?”

There's a fine line between winding up Matthias and possibly causing a repeat of last night, so Aurelio watches his husband carefully, waiting for the signs. But Matthias seems to be in good health, judging from his clenched fist that clearly wants to punch Aurelio in his teeth. “We didn't consummate,” he grits out.

“That's not what the bedclothes say.”

“Aurelio--”

“How splendid!” a voice rings out. “To see you two getting along so well. Truly, this marriage was perfectly chosen.”

“Uncle Gervase ,” Matthias says. “You are up rather early.”

Gervase. Aurelio mentally runs down the list of what he knows about him. The court spymaster and Gregory's brother. Second in line to the throne. Often appears unexpectedly at council meetings in dark cloaks and disappears just as quickly.

So clearly—damnation. This will be difficult. “I believe we haven't met, sir,” Aurelio says. “I saw you at our wedding but I did not get a chance to speak to you.”

“You know how that it is,” Gervase says. His smile is wide and bright. “So many people wanting to give their well-wishes. But we're family. We'll always have time to do so.”

“Yes, yes.” Matthias has turned his irritation towards the new interloper. “Is there something you wanted, Uncle, or did you just want to make sure that my day was as unpleasant as possible?”

Gervase keeps smiling. “Aurelio,” he says. “I wish you the very best of luck in dealing with His Majesty. And if that is not enough, I do keep a liberal amount of spirits in my sitting room, should you need to partake. The door is not locked.”

“Gervase!”

“Oh, yes. And I believe Father Justinian was looking for you, Matthias. Something to do with tithes and bequeathing a temple.” Gervase waves his hand dismissively. “I wasn't paying attention.”

“Damn it!” Matthias wavers slightly, and Aurelio reaches out to steady him, putting his hand under his elbow. He expects him to pull away, but Matthias surprises him and leans in. “If you think--”

They both look up.

Gervase is gone.

“Interesting,” Aurelio says. “I suppose that comes in handy.”

* * *

It's so easy to fall into a routine.

Aurelio wakes up each morning next to Matthias, who sleeps deeply and snores loudly and gives all the impression of a very angry bear if you try to rouse him before nine.

It doesn't take Aurelio long to get dressed, since black goes with everything, but Matthias is a different story. There are jewels to pick out, shoes to polish until to gleam, and he's entirely convinced that Matthias has a different scent for every day of the week.

Tuesdays are the best – bitter orange and clove that mean when Aurelio accidentally stumbles against Matthias and breathes into his neck, his mouth is filled with spices.

You'd think Matthias would have learned by now, but no, apparently he consides Aurelio terribly clumsy when it comes to the back spiral staircase and has merely resigned himself to it.

Aurelio considers it proper compensation for what inevitably follows: having your husband called away to council meetings where he comes back grumpier than ever. Either Sofia is insisting upon hosting even more diplomatic dinners (that he hates), or Benedict is asking to build up the armory by spending more money (which he hates), or Justinian is preaching about the virtues of their dear deceased ruler (whom he hates).

And that's not even counting Gervase randomly making veiled suggestions and disappearing before Matthias can throw an inkwell at his head.

Truly, being a king must be an arduous task. It is therefore, deeply fortunate for Aurelio that he is only expected to lounge around and be available at the king's pleasure.

That the king is not actually taking advantage of this pleasure is therefore, an increasingly worrisome thing. Is it that Aurelio is not charming enough? Not handsome enough? Not versed in techniques that account for all sorts of preferences and available implements?

No, Aurelio thinks. This kind of aimless thought will not do. He must get to the bottom of it.

He executes his plans on one day when Matthias is well into a rant, having been both forced to lay down on a bed and to attend a meeting where it was suggested that they really should have Aurelio greet the new Duchess because wasn't he just the most charming thing, nephew? You really should show him off.

Aurelio had to drag Matthias away before he actually made good on his threat to hang Gervase by his feet until the blood rushing to his head had the chance to improve his intelligence.

So it takes a few moments of Matthias's ramblings before he trails off and notices what Aurelio is doing. “I thought I told you--”

Aurelio's already got half of his clothing off, and really, his husband is an intelligent man. You'd think he would have caught on quicker. “I know what you told me. But I also know that you're frustrated, you're angry, and you keep rubbing up on me in the middle of the night and then pretending that I must have been having a horrifically depraved dream to even think that you were doing something like that.”

Matthias flushes. “I have no idea--”

“Just tell me, Matthias. If you want this to be a marriage in name only, I'm capable of it. I don't force myself on the unwilling.” Aurelio says. “But if you desire me and you're holding back out of some misguided belief that I'm doing this out of pity or duty, then you're being an idiot. You're desirable and not even my mother can make me do something I don't want to do.”

There's a moment of silence.

Aurelio is panting, out of breath and desperately willing his arousal to go down because it could all go very wrong since that seems to be the theme of Aurelio's life.

Matthias keeps staring at him. It's a piercing look that dissects him entirely and mounts him on a board, to be judged and classified, and oh, he's deeply miscalculated.

“Right,” Matthias says eventually. “You've made your argument.”

Aurelio closes his eyes. Fuck his life. At least if he gets sent back in disgrace to his mother, he'll have some new delightful stories to tell before she disowns him for being such a disappointment.

“I'll just be going then,” he says. A hand reaches out to stop him.

It's made more effective by the fact that it's gone completely down his trousers.

Aurelio opens his mouth, lets out a deeply embarrassing moan.

“I didn't say it wasn't convincing,” Matthias says, and carries on as deftly as he wields a pen.

* * *

Not all days, however, are good ones like those. 

It takes him five times of pacing the room, checking the window, and sighing heavily before his husband finally snaps and says, “Sit down, Aurelio. Surely, a rainy day is not a new thing to you?”

Aurelio peers out at the gloomy skies, the rain pattering the glass, and slumps on the pile of cushions just below it. “I hate them,” he says. “They're--” He buries his head in a particularly plush red velvet cushion and screams.

It's quiet for a few seconds except for the sound of the drops and his muffled cries. “Are you finished?” Matthias asks patiently, as if Aurelio is a particularly beloved, but troublesome child.

“They just keep you from doing so much,” Aurelio says. “I could be riding a horse or taking a walk in the gardens or doing something that isn't terribly dull, but instead, I'm counting how many flowers there are in this very hideous painting. It's 106 by the way.”

“Hmm.” It's not sympathetic. “That is a pity. “ Matthias turns back to his book, seemingly ignoring him.

Aurelio lets out a deep breath and puts his arm over his eyes. Perhaps if he--

“It's 107.”

“What?”

“You've missed the small blue one in the left corner. It's an easy mistake.”

Aurelio peers closer. Huh. “How would you--”

“I've had a lot of rainy days,” Matthias says quietly. “As well as sunny ones.”

There's a pang of something in Aurelio that he doesn't want to examine or dwell on because it would mean admitting--”I'm sorry,” he says. “I shouldn't have said anything.”

“It's all right,” Matthias replies and it comes so quickly that Aurelio knows he's used to repeating those words. “I shouldn't expect you to want to be caged like this.”

Aurelio gets up quickly, makes his way over to Matthias whose back is firmly turned against him. He loops both of his arms around his husband's shoulders, feels him shaking and runs his hands down his arms until he reaches Matthias's hands. They're cold. “You should have told me.”

“It's--”

“No,” Aurelio says. “It's not.” He takes each hand into his own, rests his chin on Matthias's shoulder. He can smell the faint scent of ink, sandalwood, blood. It's a scent that he's getting used to. “I think I'm beginning to hate your father.”

Matthias's chest heaves again, and Aurelio prepares himself to either see blood dripping from Matthias's lips or tears, but instead, it takes him far too long to realize that Matthias is—laughing? “Well, now I know we're perfectly matched,” he says. Matthias twists around and reaches up, puts his hand in Aurelio's hair.

It's a sign, Aurelio thinks, and bends down to gently kiss Matthias, who startles for a second, but only that, before eagerly kissing back. His lips are dry, faintly coppery and Aurelio lets himself taste Matthias, take him in. It's a sign.

Of just how terrible his life really is.

* * *

Matthias doesn't even make it to the door that night.

His husband pitches forward in the hallway and Aurelio lunges forward, catches him and holds both of his shoulders before reconsidering as he sees his husband's knees start to buckle. He readjusts, lifts Matthias up in his arms, supporting his far too light weight, his shaking body, his--

“This is embarrassing.” Aurelio looks down and his husband's face is flushed. It's actually pleasing to see the color, even if it is caused by shame or rage rather than good health. “You need to set me down.”

“Naturally,” Aurelio says. “Just as soon as we are in our bedchamber, my sweet one.”

The endearment is enough to cause Matthias to flush and splutter which allows Aurelio to carry him easily the rest of the way into their room. He sets him down on the bed, shuts the door, and returns just in time to see Matthias try to lift himself up. “I need to--”

“No.” Aurelio sits on the bed. “You need to rest.”

Matthias keeps trying to get some leverage to pull himself up and it's far too easy for Aurelio to just place his hand on his husband's chest and gently push him down. “You don't understand. There's some discrepancies in the accounts that I need to look into. I have actual work. Just because--”

“Just because I have nothing to do?” Aurelio says. He watches Matthias look away. “Don't fret. I know I'm just here to be useless and pretty.” He lets his voice go low and flirtatious on the last part, waits for Matthias to flush again, to sputter.

His husband surprises him. “You're not here to be useless,” he says quietly. “You're far more useful than me.”

“Matthias?”

“I don't know why your mother sent you.” Matthias is looking at Aurelio directly and it's a piercing look. Not even the soft wracking coughs coming from his chest distract him from seeming to stare directly into Aurelio's soul. “She could have sent anyone from her court. I know that my advisers were hoping for a duke at best. Not a prince.”

Aurelio swallows and it's his turn to avoid Matthias's eyes. “Perhaps you overestimate my value,” he says. “My mother--”

“Loves you,” Matthias says. “I can tell.” He reaches up an arm, and Aurelio takes it, lets Matthias gently tug him down. He's not sure how long his husband's curiously melancholy mood will last, but while it does, he lets Matthias nestle into his arms. Aurelio strokes his side, feels Matthias loosen under his touch.

“How?” Aurelio says, yawning. It's far too early to retire and yet Matthias's lassitude is catching. His eyes grow heavy and it's just so warm, holding his husband's fragile body against him, feeling its heartbeat flutter like a caged bird.

“She sent you to me,” Matthias's voice is barely audible, a whisper as it drifts off. “It's more than my father would have done.”

“What?” But the thought is too fleeting and the darkness too warm and his husband is there in his arms and it's--

Too much.

* * *

It should surprise him more.

If he was someone different, someone sweet and innocent, a blushing bride appearing on his husband's doorstep, ready to marry for family and country and someday, if he was lucky, love?

But he's not lucky. He's not innocent. He's Aurelio.

He's his mother's son.

So when Aurelio wakes up in chains, his head fuzzy and fogged, with a dozen guards, half of Matthias's council, and his husband himself, staring down at him, a strange look on his face, the only thing he can say is “To be fair, I haven't actually done anything yet.”

“Then you admit it to it,” Father Justinian says and Aurelio would care more about how offended he sounds, really, but he went to sleep comfortable and warm in Matthias's embrace and woke up cold and half-dressed by himself, so at this point, it doesn't really matter.

“I admit to nothing,” Aurelio says. “Well, possibly to breaking that statue in the hallway, but let's be honest, no one was deeply fond of it.”

“We know what you are,” another voice says and Aurelio thinks it's possibly Benedict, which is flattering, honestly, since they dragged a war hero in to confront him. “Did you really think you could murder our king and get away with it?”

“Considering he's still alive and I've done nothing of the sort, the answer would clearly appear to be no.”

“Just stop it, Aurelio.”

All this screaming and yelling and it's Matthias's soft voice that makes the most impact. “I didn't--”

“You may leave,” Matthias says and this time, it's not directed at him.

“But your Majesty--”

Matthias's look is far more effective on them because after a few distrustful looks and some grumbling, they leave. “We'll be right outside if he tries anything.”

The door shuts and they're alone in far less congenial surroundings than a warm room with a soft bed. “Matthias--”

“It's all right,” he says. “I knew.”

“You didn't.” Aurelio can't seem to get the words out and he should, this is when it matters, but instead, all he can say is, “I didn't—I wasn't going to.”

“You should have told them to save the trouble,” Matthias says. “It's not like I'm going to be around for very long. I always--”

“Shut up,” Aurelio says and he can see that Matthias is so shocked by this audacity that he takes a step back. “You're not dying now or soon. That's why you're a threat,” he says.

“Oh?” Matthias looks smug suddenly, and Aurelio knows exactly why he's got that look, like he thinks he's won something. “To whom?”

“Look, if you think you're manipulating me into answering, you can also save the trouble. I'll tell you the truth regardless. I have no idea,” Aurelio says. “All I know is that I was told to come here, marry you, and that things would take care of themselves as long as I took care of you.”

“But you didn't.” Matthias's eyes are distant, and Aurelio recognizes that look. He's puzzling something out, something he's not going to tell Aurelio.

That's fine. Aurelio already solved it a long time ago. He was just waiting for the right moment. “So are you going to kill Gervase now?”

Matthias blinks at him. “Why would I do that? He's family?”

Fuck.

* * *

It's not fair. So maybe Aurelio isn't going to die right now, but he's still stuck in the dungeon with the majority of the court thinking he's a murderer that tried to kill their fragile flower of a king. Matthias is off, blithely ignoring the clear traitor in the room and Aurelio can't do anything about it, but scream at him until Matthias says, “Maybe you need some time to cool your head?” and closes the door on his impotent rage.

“You are terrible at this.”

Oh good, it appears that Aurelio doesn't need to look for Gervase. He's already here. Aurelio eyes around for a possible weapon, but Matthias's guards are irritatingly good at their jobs.

“I could say the same thing,” Aurelio says. “It would have been far more effective to just do it yourself. Why go through the trouble of forging an alliance, gambling that my mother would accept whatever terms you proposed, and waiting for me to do the job when you could have just hired someone local?”

Gervase folds his arms. “Aurelio,” he says, in the exact same tone as his nephew when he thinks Aurelio is being particularly dense and it is completely unfair that two people can use it against him. “What did your mother exactly tell you your unknown employer wanted you to do?”

Is he serious? “You're going to ask me that?”

“Yes,” he says calmly. “And you're going to answer it.”

“Fine.” If Gervase really wants to play that game. “Take care of your nephew.”

“Exactly.” Gervase sighs. “Have you done that? Or rather, have you been doing that?”

Aurelio narrows his eyes. “I don't have to--”

“Are you taking care of my nephew? Or are you stuck in a dungeon because you can't figure out that there's a damn traitor in this court and we specifically picked you to root them out before Matthias does because he's smart enough to figure it out before anyone else here and self-sacrificing enough that he'll get himself killed doing so.”

It takes a moment to sink in and then Aurelio realizes that he still isn't finished screaming at people for the day. “What? Are you telling me that you and my mother cooked up this plan to find a killer?”

“Yes.”

“Then why the hell would you hire one?”

Gervase smiles thinly and produces a key. “Your mother has great faith in your abilities, which seems a bit misplaced. Thankfully, she was far more astute in her assessment of your heart and its romantic leanings.”

“Fuck you,” Aurelio says and holds out his wrists to be unlocked. “So who the hell is it?”

“I have no idea.”

* * *

“Your father was such a great man. That you would destroy everything he worked for, everything he built, is clearly the work of the devil. He cursed you with weakness, with sickness, with failings and flaws because he sought to bring our country down. But I will not let this happen. I will not--”

Aurelio can't say that he's ever deeply had a goal of punching a member of the clergy in the face, but seeing Father Justinian go down at his hands is deeply satisfying.

Matthias is wheezing on the floor and Aurelio's down there at once, untying his wrists. “You're a fool,” he tells him. “I know you think you're the most clever person in the room, but you really aren't.”

His husband can't talk, only pant and hold onto him. Aurelio runs his hands over his body, checks for bruises, for blood, for anything that might suggest that he needs to slam Justinian's head into the floor a few more times. “I guess you did see this before Gervase or me, though.”

“Told—you--wasn't him.” Matthias's voice is still broken, coughing, and Aurelio rubs his back, holds him tightly. “Family.”

“Sure,” Aurelio says. “You both have that same tendency to not tell me a damn thing until it's almost too late. What if I hadn't gotten free?”

“You would have. I know you.” Matthias is leaning against him. Aurelio doesn't fight the temptation to kiss his head, nuzzle it until he feels his own heart slowing down, losing the panicked fear that made it race as he ran to the church, hoping, fearing, knowing in his bones that he'd be too late, that he wouldn't make it, that Gervase was a complete idiot who spent his time giving a dramatic speech rather than protecting his own flesh and blood.

“You know me,” Aurelio says softly. “So from the very beginning, you knew I wouldn't kill you.”

“Oh, I didn't know that.” Matthias's voice is equally quiet. “But it wouldn't have mattered. I still wanted you. You could have done anything you wanted.”

He wants to shake Matthias. He wants to kiss him.

Aurelio's not stupid. He knows which is the better option.

Matthias's breathing gets a little heavy again, but it's for a good cause, that being kissing the hell out of his impossibly beautiful, irresponsible, and far too clever for his own good husband.

Eventually, though, Aurelio does have to pull away, if only to catch a few breaths of his own.

“There is no magic cure, you know,” Matthias says. “I'll have good moments and I'll have horrible ones, but I'm not going to wake up and suddenly be my father.”

“I would hope not,” Aurelio shudders. “That beard alone--”

Matthias nudges him with surprisingly sharp elbows and Aurelio turns, settles at Matthias's somber expression. “You're not always going to get sunny days with me,” he says.

Aurelio nods. “And I'm not going to leave just because you tell me to,” he replies. “So I guess we'll just have to figure out what to do. We have time.”

“True,” Matthias says. He's smiling now, which cannot be good. “And as my darling husband is so brilliant, I have just seized upon the most marvelous idea for a possible new advisor to my council.”

That little shit. “And what makes you think I'll go along with this plan?”

Matthias pulls down Aurelio and kisses him soundly until Aurelio is the one that has to pull away to catch his breath. “Because you love me.”

“Yes,” he says. “I really do.”


End file.
